(Mike DekleByron Hill)



There's a place called Joe's

Where some of us go

When the hard working day is through

Through the neon and smoke

We laugh and tell jokes

And throw down a cold one or two

There's a jukebox that's full of records

By Willie, Haggard and Jones

There's a picture of Elvis and ol' John Wayne

Hanging side by side on the wall



Down at Joe's place

It's still the old way

Pickled eggs in a jar

And a blue ribbon sign

Ol' boys and bankers

Sitting side by side

Down at Joe's place

Down at Joe's place



Along about midnight

A few hangers on

Are still hanging out at the bar

If the telphone rings

It's an understood thing

Joe don't know where they are

At a table in the corner

There's a young man and an empty chair

His head in his hands. tears in his eyes

And a girlfriend's ring lying there



Down at Joe's place

It's still the old way

Pickled eggs in a jar

And a blue ribbon sign

Ol' boys and bankers

Sitting side by side

Down at Joe's place

Down at Joe's place